


A simple wish

by HelveticaBrown



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: F/F, Post 2x07
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-28
Updated: 2016-11-28
Packaged: 2018-09-02 20:32:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8682415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HelveticaBrown/pseuds/HelveticaBrown
Summary: As decisions go, this one seems like it might earn pride of place in the Maggie Sawyer Poor Life Choices Hall of Fame. Or, Alex shows up at Maggie's apartment and Maggie lets her in.Post 2x07.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I've been horribly blocked all week while trying to write plottier things, so here's something not particularly plotty and a little bit smutty instead. Hope you enjoy.

* * *

Maggie’s just settling in with a beer and something trashy from her Netflix queue for an action-packed evening of being alone and miserable when there’s the sound of someone banging on her door. She sighs, because of the very short list of people who know where she lives, very few of them are likely to be greeting her with a smile when she answers the door.  

She’s right. It’s Alex, and she’s definitely not smiling. Instead, she’s pacing back and forth, agitation evident in every move.

She leans against the doorframe, watching Alex pace. “Hey Alex, what’s up?” she asks, her voice gentle, because after everything that's happened lately, they're still not in a good place.

Alex doesn’t acknowledge her greeting, instead, launching into a rapid-fire series of statements and questions and she struggles to catch up with a conversation that it seems like Alex started long before she showed up on Maggie’s doorstep.

“You know, I realised that I haven’t been hearing what you were saying. I kept hearing that you don’t like me like that but that’s not true, is it? This attraction isn’t one-sided at all, is it? You want me too, don’t you?” Alex keeps firing question after question, not stopping for an answer and not looking at Maggie.

Alex’s hands are frenetic rather than purposeful in their movements and it’s like she’s conducting an invisible orchestra at either end of the hallway. Maggie feels a flicker of concern, because she hasn’t seen Alex like this, so thoroughly out of control. “Have you been drinking, Alex?” she asks, already certain of the answer.

Alex stops pacing and finally turns to face Maggie. “I’m not drunk,” she says, and now that Maggie is looking at her properly, she sees that’s true. There’s a clarity and an intensity in her gaze that makes Maggie shiver a little and she realises she’s seeing a side of Alex that she’s only caught glimpses of before. “So am I right?”

Maggie thinks about lying, but Alex is looking at her like she can see right through her and she senses that the lie would be futile. “You’re right, I do,” she admits. “But you and me would be a bad idea, Alex, and your friendship is important to me.” It feels like she’s said the word _friends_ more often in the last couple of weeks than she has in half a lifetime before and if she’s honest, she’s kind of getting sick of the word.

“And who says friends can’t fuck?” Alex hasn’t broken her gaze yet, but when Alex takes two steps forward until she’s just a little bit too close, Maggie can’t help but close her eyes. She shoves her hands in her pockets as a precaution against her first instinct, which is to reach out and hook her thumbs in Alex’s belt loops and pull her closer still.  

She takes a step back, opening her eyes again. “I do,” she says. “I don’t fuck my friends.”

“Maybe if you did, you’d have more friends instead of playing pool by yourself in a dive bar every night.” Alex’s eyes narrow and Maggie can see she’s watching for a reaction.

“Go to hell, Alex.” There’s not much bite in her voice – it’s more tired than anything – because Alex, even at her cruellest can’t even come close to some of the things she’s heard before, and she knows Alex is hurting right now.

“I’m already there,” Alex says through gritted teeth. And judging by the heat she feels when Alex’s hand finds her hip, rough and possessive, Maggie thinks she may soon be joining her. The thoughts she’s having right now are the kind that would have seen her spending hours on her knees, rosary in hand, back when she was pretending to be a good Catholic girl who went to Mass every Sunday. Now, when she gets down on her knees, prayer is usually the furthest thing from her mind. She wonders if Alex would like her on her knees.

“See. We’re not friends. And now that we’re not, we can fuck, right?” Alex whispers, close to her ear.

Maggie’s breath stutters and then the rest of it is gone as her back hits the wall, Alex pressed tight against her. And Alex waits, waits for her response, drawing back a little so she can watch Maggie’s face.

She knows she’s supposed to say no, but it’s not like she has a history of making great decisions where women are concerned. The fact that she’s had more break-ups than home-cooked meals in the last five years is kind of a big clue on that front. But this one… this one is definitely going to take pride of place in the Maggie Sawyer Poor Life Choices Hall of Fame.

She’s supposed to say no, but she doesn’t. Instead, she tangles her fingers in Alex’s hair, pulling her head down until their lips meet and she’s filling her empty lungs with nothing but Alex.

She knows she’s supposed to be like some kind of lesbian Yoda, only there to dispense barely comprehensible nuggets of wisdom along the way on Alex’s big gay journey, but she’s no fucking saint. Neither is Alex, though, and god knows Luke Skywalker never looked at Yoda like this. And she’s not sure why she’s thinking about Star Wars when Alex’s teeth are grazing her collarbone and there’s a hard-muscled thigh pressing in between her legs and she’s already so, so _wet_. And then she’s not thinking much at all and she barely has the presence of mind to push her front door shut before Alex finishes unbuttoning her shirt with trembling hands.

Then Alex’s hands are purposeful again, stroking long, deliberate lines up her sides and her thumbs are just brushing Maggie’s nipples through the thin fabric of her bra. Her head hits the wall behind her with a thud and Alex takes that as encouragement and _damn_ she’s good, because there’s heat pooling low in Maggie’s abdomen and every touch adds to it. Maggie’s hands scrabble for purchase on the sleek, shiny leather of Alex’s jacket until she gives up and lets them slide down to settle on the curve of Alex’s ass, which admittedly isn’t the worst thing in the world.

She’s thought a lot about Alex’s hands, watched them wield a pool cue or fire a gun, strong and sure and deliberate, and wondered what else they’re good at. She’s watched them telegraph every feeling that’s ever crossed Alex’s mind and right now they’re telegraphing _something_ as they dip below the waistband of her pants.

Maggie pulls Alex closer, her fingers biting into rough denim and the firm but yielding flesh it’s covering, pulls her closer until Alex’s hands are trapped between their hips. She’s too old to fuck against a wall when there’s a perfectly serviceable bed two rooms away.

“Bedroom?” she murmurs, her voice sounding husky even to her own ears.

They _don’t_ make it to the bedroom and Maggie decides that maybe she’s not too old to fuck on her living room floor.

Alex’s hands are eager, working Maggie’s pants down past her hips and somewhere in between all this, Maggie has managed to get Alex’s jacket and shirt off, but not much else. It doesn’t feel particularly fair, but then she decides she doesn’t really mind when Alex’s fingers slide featherlight and teasing across her clit and then sink deep inside her.

Alex doesn’t fuck like she’s fresh off the boat and maybe the surprise shows on Maggie’s face, because Alex says, “You thought I was going to be like some blushing virgin, all fumbling and uncertain? I’m a scientist, Maggie. I do my research. Even for this.”

From anyone else that line would sound completely fucking ridiculous, but Maggie’s so far gone on Alex that apparently all sense has deserted her. “Nerd,” she gasps out, and she gets a smile in response, the first one she’s seen in a while and it feels dangerous, because something between them has shifted and this doesn’t feel like just fucking anymore.

And then, judging by the way Alex curls her fingers inside her just right, Maggie suspects that her research hasn’t been confined to desk research, that maybe there was a significant fieldwork component to it too. But right now, she doesn’t care about the details, just cares about the incredible, maddening rhythm of Alex’s fingers.

“You like my nerdiness,” Alex says, and Maggie doesn’t understand how she could be talking so much at a time like this.

“You talk too much,” she says, or at least she thinks she does. It doesn’t matter though, because she pulls Alex down into a kiss, deep and lingering, and she’s finally quiet.

Maggie’s close, frustratingly so, and she grinds against the palm of Alex’s hand seeking the pressure she needs and she’s not sure if Alex is fucking her anymore or if she’s fucking herself on Alex’s hand. Her body feels taut as a bowstring and Alex holds her there, on the edge of release, for what seems like forever. And just when Maggie’s not sure she can take anymore, she finally relents and with the next stroke, there’s a thumb sliding across her clit and it doesn’t take long before she’s sobbing into Alex’s mouth as she rides the crest of her pleasure.

She collapses back to the floor, boneless and sated, as she tries to catch her breath. Alex props herself up beside her on one elbow, the other hand tracing patterns on Maggie’s hip, her side, her abdomen. She’s quiet, her eyes dark and watchful, and the bravado of earlier almost seems like it was never there.

When Alex finally speaks, there’s an uncertain quaver in her voice. “Was that okay?” she asks.

And Maggie’s not sure how to answer that, because it feels like there are two questions there and she might not know the answer to the second one for quite some time. So she answers the more obvious one, the more immediate one instead. “Yes, it was perfect,” she says, before shifting onto her side so she can lean forward and kiss Alex’s smiling lips.


End file.
